


The Perfect Puppet

by SpeedDemon315



Category: Naruto
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dark Magic, F/M, Light Angst, Puppets, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28492638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpeedDemon315/pseuds/SpeedDemon315
Summary: In an unassuming toy shop, Sasori discovers the perfect puppet called Sakura. The only problem is the owner refuses to sell and be parted from his creation. When the Sakura puppet starts talking and begs him to save her, Sasori soon learns why--as well as the dark origins of this perfect puppet. [Sakura x Sasori]. Secret Santa Gift Fic for Itachifangirl185.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura & Sasori, Haruno Sakura/Sasori
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	The Perfect Puppet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Itachifangirl185](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itachifangirl185/gifts).



Text:  
“Speech”  
_Thoughts_  
_**Flashback**_  


________________________________________________________________________________

  


_“So many years ago, many more than I'd  
Even care to bear in my mind  
From the darkest of all places I found you._

__

__

_All the limbs in their right places  
And a heart made of real gold  
Sell me your little doll, oh sir, I ask you kind.”_  
**-The Boy Who Wanted To Be A Real Puppet,** Sonata Arctica

__________________________________________________________________________________________

  


_She is an image of perfection._  


When Sasori first beheld the human sized puppet stashed away in the archaic, but large and freshly furnished toy shop, that was the first thought that popped into his head.  


She was big and tall enough to be the same size as a petite young woman, and her features richly detailed and almost painfully realistic. Her wooden limbs were so elegantly carved and polished out of lime wood, which would explain why many of the intricate embellishments shaped into the wood were so well preserved over time. Glossy, verdant eyes stared vacantly back at him. They were molded and shaped so smoothly that the material belied the gleaming glass in the doll’s eyes. He then wondered if they were construed out of sea glass.  


The marionette’s jade eyes were not the only lovely feature she sported. Short, soft tresses of a bright, bubblegum hue gently framed her wooden face and barely brushed against the top of her shoulders and were decorated with a satin, scarlet bow. The puppet wore a dress matching the color of her bow, accompanied by a lacy white trim decorating the ruffled short sleeves, the full layered skirt, and the bodice’s sweetheart neckline. Sasori only recognized such fashion styles because at an early age, his annoying grandmother hammered into his skull that wood was not the only property or material puppet masters should concern themselves with when crafting their puppets. Presentation was key, after all.  


**_“You don’t know how many so-called puppeteers I’ve seen who can comprehend which wood to use for which puppet but are complete idiots when it comes to donning their puppets with garb. Half of these ‘puppet masters’ use the wrong materials and the other half look like they just slipped a potato sack over their puppets. It’s an utter disgrace. I’ll still be morphing better puppets than those failures even when I’m senile!”  
_ **

**_“You are already senile, Chiyo.”_**  


He had to admit, Chiyo was right. The puppet before him was dressed simply and yet splendidly. To put her in anything less would be a crime.  


“Admiring my handiwork?”  


Squashing down the irritation of having his alone time with this astounding masterpiece interrupted, Sasori barely tilted his head to acknowledge the toymaker of the store, who was peering at him through wide-brimmed spectacles. “Did you craft her yourself?” His light brown eyes gauged the older man, taking note at the grey strands overtaking most of his hair, eyebrows, and wispy beard. His own crimson hair would never be blemished by time, not in that way.  


An odd glint flashed in the toymaker’s black irises and he nodded. “Yes, I did. Finest of my work, I must say so myself. Ever since Sakura came into my life, she has brightened up my shop tremendously.”  


Sasori quirked up on an inquiring brow. “Sakura?”  


The aging fellow puppeteer nodded. “Sakura is her name. With those verdant eyes and rose-colored hair, it’s fitting name, don’t you think?”  


Sasori leveled his gaze back on Sakura, the perfect puppet. The name did suit her quite well.  


_And the perfect puppet deserves a perfect puppet master._  


“How much is she? I’ll pay you double the amount.”  


The toymaker’s dark eyes grew as wide as sausage rolls prior to the shock evanesced steadily from his worn, wrinkly visage and resumed his polite smile. “I’m sorry, sir, but the puppet is not for sale. I keep her at the shop not only for decoration but to also use for my puppet shows. The children love her, you see.”  


“Ah,” Sasori muttered, feigning understanding. He allowed not a trace of emotion to flicker on his face but inwardly, he was extremely irked by the shopkeeper’s refusal. The purpose he had for such a breathtaking marionette was for decoration and several paltry presentations and nothing more? How much of use did he truly get out of the Sakura puppet?  


The toymaker kept on smiling, but his good cheer seemed false, if a little forced. He clapped his hands together as if nothing were amiss between them. “Speaking of puppet shows, I’m about to perform one in less than ten minutes. Why don’t you stick around and see how Sakura and I work together on the stage?”  


Curious on the marionette’s functions, Sasori acquiesced. “I must admit, I am intrigued to see how your puppetry works in tandem with Sakura.”  


_Yet I wager I could handle her strings better than you._  


“Wonderful! I hope you enjoy the show then!” And off the shopkeeper went, whisking the Sakura puppet down from its perch and prepare himself for the show.  


But in a fleeting second, Sasori thought he saw the puppet open her mouth and silently called out to him, forming the words:  


“Help me.”  


__________________________________________________________________________________________

  


The puppet show wasn’t at all terrible or boring, and the shopkeeper was a decent puppeteer. Still, he lacked the immense skill Sasori—and his grandmother—had, strengthening Sasori’s belief the Sakura marionette deserved to be under the care of an actual puppet master. That and the fact, he swore he saw the puppet trying to communicate with him.  


He certainly wasn’t going mad nor did his eyes play tricks on him. His eyes were fashioned in such a precise way that nothing in this world could misdirect or fool his sight, like hallucinations. Was the puppet an automaton but its design not strictly legal, hence the shopkeeper’s reluctance to sell the doll? Automatons were a tricky business, one riddled with dark temptations to move away from complex, somewhat aware machines to replacing flesh, blood, and bone with steel, cogs, and oil. In the past, Sasori encountered plenty of criminals and madman who tried to tether souls or pieces of them to machine bodies to gain complete control over that unwilling victim with varying degrees of success. And most of those same creators were usually discovered and executed for their crimes.  


He had to learn more about this Sakura puppet, if she truly was one.  


Pushing aside a few straggling customers who were still chatting about the earlier performance, Sasori quickly headed over to the shopkeeper, a series of probing but subtle questions taking root in his brain. But he stopped when a light brown-haired woman of thirty years or younger approached the toymaker, who gave her a short nod in greeting. The two of them shared discreet gazes of familiarity, the woman appearing cheerful while the toymaker remained diplomatically cordial. The unknown woman then reached out to stroke Sakura’s pink hair and unbeknownst to her and all nearby, Sasori watched on and witnessed the marionette shudder, actually shudder, from the woman’s touch.  


His eyes did not previously deceive him.  


His curiosity piqued even more, Sasori followed them, allowing the crowd to mask his movements. He surveyed some of the rows of puppets to keep up the ruse of being an interested customer before he resumed his hunt. When the toymaker and the mysterious woman were back in his office, the perfect puppet in hand, Sasori stood close by, concealing himself amidst all the excess materials and discarded shelves or tables. The office door was ajar and their voices loud enough for him to overhear them without hindrance.  


“Why do you keep coming to my shop, Mrs. Bullard? I thought you didn’t want to see Sakura anymore.”  


The woman scoffed. “I’m Mrs. Hidaka now, Aoki. And even though I left my old name and life behind, I still get the motherly urge to check in on Sakura and see how she’s faring in your…charming company.” Sasori could get picture her fawning oh so falsely over the puppet and Sakura’s wooden form trembling from head to toe.  


_What the hell is going on in this shop? Is this woman really the puppet’s so-called mother?_  


Maybe it was a figure of speech. Some people liked to think of their pets as their children so perhaps this woman thought the same way, at least for a time. Until she sold the beautiful marionette to the shopkeeper called Aoki.  


“Sakura is flourishing like a growing rose under my care and tutelage,” Mr. Aoki reassured Mrs. Hidaka. “Your once daughter can bask in the attention and admiration of young children without ever worrying about pain, hunger, or affection. She is out of your life and in return, brightens up my life as the daughter I never had.”  


“Just as she should be,” Mrs. Hidaka practically purred out.  


The conversation droned a little longer, with mainly Mrs. Hidaka talking to the Sakura doll, praising her for her beauty and updating on her how wonderful her new life is and how happy she was to find a loving husband for herself. Eventually, the woman grew bored and left, with Mr. Aoki trailing eagerly behind her. The office door was closed, but not locked, and when Sasori peered inside, the perfect puppet laid solemnly on the desk, her red and white dress smoothed out and arms folded together in ladylike fashion. His breath gently fogged up parts of the door’s window and oh so very lightly, he pushed the door open, all the while testing its hinges to prevent any loud noises. With soft steps, he crept to the desk and the doll, staring meticulously at its green, sea glass eyes, wondering if Sakura would speak to him again or remain silent after the unpleasant chit-chat with her so-called mother.  


It—no, _she_ —did not let him down.  


“Are you here to take me away?” Her jaw began to move up and down while her wooden, painted mouth formed each word with relative ease. “Please…I don’t be here anymore. Not with that shopkeeper, not where my mother can visit me and gloat about her new, glorious life.” There was now a plaintive gleam in her glossy irises, almost as if Sakura was assaying to weep but couldn’t.  


With all the care in the world, Sasori gathered her into his arms, cradling the perfect puppet to his chest. His black cloak would keep her concealed and protect her from being noticed until they reached shelter. No one here would be able to trace him back to his private abode.  


He brushed a few stray pink strands away from her wooden features, stroking her cheek absentmindedly. “You’re safe now, Sakura,” he whispered, watching how her whole visage lit up with such hope in his words. “Don’t waste your tears on those fools.”  


Sakura rested her head up against his chest, closing her eyes as she held onto Sasori. Her delicate wooden fingers maintained a stronger grip than he expected yet then again, she was full of surprises.  


By the time the puppeteer of the toy store returned to his office and noticed her absence, Sasori and Sakura were long gone and in the safety of his hideout.  


________________________________________________________________________________________

  


Normally, Sasori was not one to fuss over anyone but with Sakura, he made certain she was in a comfortable position when he placed her on his sofa, draping over her a quilted blanket that belonged to his parents when they were younger…and alive. Once he was satisfied with her comfort and she felt more at ease with her surroundings, the perfect puppet explained how she came into existence.  


“I used to be human. A real, breathing young girl who could walk on her own accord, not tethered to the hands of another.” Sakura scanned at her arms and hands, her doleful expression transforming into a scowl and she viciously tugged on the strings tied around her wooden limbs.  


“What happened?” he asked, curious on how a human became a live puppet. Unlike him, she didn’t ask for this life.  


Sakura didn’t look up, yet she did halt her relentless tugging. When she spoke, her voice sounded quiet, yet she quivered with rage. “My mother wanted an upgrade in her life and decided I was too much of a bother care for. I guess my mere presence would ruin her second chance for luxurious, carefree life.” Now her tone seemed so small and forlorn, adding more to her image of being discarded, broken girl or doll mostly forgotten by those who were supposed to love her.  


The crimson-haired puppet master uttered nothing in response. He only studied her with intrigue while waiting for the heavy silence around them to compel the marionette to spill the rest of her story. After a minute or two later, Sakura sighed, lifted her head back up to face him, and resumed her troubling tale.  


She had been happy once. Her father was a doctor and when she was little, Sakura want to grow up and be just like him. Her mother worked part-time as a back-up dancer and entertainer at an opulent downtown club. Sakura was too young to accompany her mother to her job, but she wasn’t the only child on her block whose mother worked at that flashy, energetic restaurant and bar that pridefully lauded its fine, exquisite dining, many levels of entertainment, and impeccable service. Regardless, the three of them were very content and blessed—until Sakura was twelve. Then her whole idyllic, happy-go-lucky life abruptly shattered and dissolved all around her when her and her mother received the dreadful news: Sakura’s father was not coming home.  


The awful tidings arrived at midnight, but her father was already dead an hour earlier. There was poor lighting on the street he was driving, and another car was speeding down the wrong lane, the driver intoxicated and lost. Sakura’s father tried to swerve away and avoid a collision, but the oncoming vehicle still managed to clip him hard enough to cause his card to flip over and land on the other side of the road. He was dead upon impact.  


“Without my father’s income, my mother had to work full-time and take on extra shifts or side jobs to keep our flat. And keep up with her lavish desires.” Sakura commented bitterly. One of her strings finally broke and remained limp in her clenched fist. “To help pay for food and heating, I cut my hair—and I sobbed every time the scissors sniped off large chunks of my long, pink strands. I was forced to sell most of my belongings while she made up some excuse why she needed all her lovely dresses and possessions. And then when she would entertain some would-be clients or special guests, I was hidden away in the attic like I was some awful secret, a decoration my mother didn’t want any more.”  


Sasori’s eyebrows knitted together with mild irritation. “She cached you up in the attic when she had company? Why didn’t she just tell you stay in your private quarters?” As soon the words left his mouth, Sakura’s intricately carved features were morphed into a mixture of sorrow and indignation. In an instant, realization dawned on him. “The attic was your room.”  


“My new room, anyway. She used my previous chamber to rent out to someone else and they didn’t know I even existed.”  


Eventually, Sakura’s mother’s efforts paid off. For when Sakura was sixteen, her mother attracted the attention of a luxurious, financially stable bachelor who was in the market for a wife. Sakura never met her stepfather because her mother didn’t want her betrothed to learn she was a mother and previously married.  


The logic of Sakura’s ridiculous mother irked Sasori immensely. What was going to be her long-term plan with Sakura if that wealthy bachelor didn’t step into her miserable life? “Did you mother get the impression her future husband wouldn’t like children or wasn’t the type to marry widows? Or was she afraid her ill treatment of you would be revealed if you and your stepfather were introduced?”  


Sakura shrugged before casting her snapped string aside. It floated briefly in the air prior to landing on the armrest of his worn, burgundy suede couch. “I think he wouldn’t have minded in meeting me and accepted me but according to my mother, his family wouldn’t. I guess they were extremely old-fashioned and wouldn’t like the idea of a child from another marriage suddenly be integrated into their huge, prestigious family, and receive some inheritance one day. That is who my mother tried to blame at first when she handed me over that odious shopkeeper, Aoki, and commanded him to alter my form.”  


Now this was the part of her story that rapidly piqued Sasori’s interest. Aoki may not be a peerless puppeteer, yet he had to be knowledgeable of at least a few special skills or less than legal magic to turn a human into a walking, talking marionette. Were Aoki’s methods similar or different to his when Sasori turned himself into a true (and the first) human puppet with his own will, functions, and thoughts? He had to know!  


“Your mother sounds like the type who likes to blame others for her own troubles,” Sasori remarked tonelessly, wondering what sort of poison he could force that pathetic woman to digest. Even though he only knew Sakura for about a day, already he loathed how pain and misery Sakura’s own mother inflected on her. Such an epitome of perfection deserved better, human or doll.  


A mirthless laugh escaped Sakura. “That’s my mommy all right. When Aoki bound me to the floor of his shop, my mother watched on while he commenced the ritual to change me into a puppet. I was to be a toy he could play with and pretend that I belonged to him—as ‘the daughter he never had’.” She spat out of the last phrase and involuntary shuddered. “And when I hollered, cried, pleaded, and berated her for her betrayal and all of her feeble excuses about her future in-laws would never accept a stepdaughter from less than distinguished background, she finally told me the truth.”  


Sakura closed her glass eyes, her mother’s painful words still echoing in her mind as she relayed them to Sasori.  


_**“You were nothing more than a burden to me, Sakura. I thought having children would be fun but honestly, your father enjoyed parenthood far more than me. My life would have been so much simpler—and easier—if you had died instead of your father.”  
** _

_**She patted Sakura’s head fondly, despite the verbal cruelty she just unleashed upon her own daughter. Sakura stared at her in mute horror, green eyes round and big as gold coins while her mouth gapped open in a frozen scream. Tears swam in her vision and her mother gifted her a saccharine smile.  
** _

_**“Now, now, don’t cry, Sakura. I promise I will stop by and visit you in your new home. Even though you’ll be a puppet, I still wish to check up on you once in a while to make sure you’ve been a good girl to Mr. Aoki.”**_  


“After that, she said her farewells and observed Mr. Aoki transform me into this,” Sakura finished, gesturing to her whole body when she emphasized ‘this’. “While I sobbed and pleaded with her stop him, she uttered nothing. Merely smiled that fake, sick smile of hers and walked out of my life.”  


Silence descended upon the two once the tale was over and hesitantly, Sakura opened her eyes to level her verdant gaze on Sasori. “I never thought I find someone who could set me free. Until I met you, I thought I was doomed to dance to that shopkeeper’s strings until he finally grew bored of me and tossed me in the nearest trash bin.” Her lips curved up in a small, tentative beam. “We’re alike, you and me. Two human puppets stuck in this pale existence of life.” Almost immediately, her grin vanished.  


Sasori shook his head. “I disagree. We are images of immortal art, perfect in so many ways. I constructed this body of mine to be better and more efficient than my old one, without flaws.”  


“But can you feel anything? Taste anything?” argued Sakura, eyebrows furrowing. “I can’t! I miss the smell and taste of food, or feeling grass underneath my feet, or simply being able to experience a sensation of any kind when I touch something, be it my hair or a cute little animal I want to pet!”  


He favored her a half-smile, his brown eyes looking almost amusedly at her. He then crossed over the couch and sat beside her, covering her smaller, broader hands over with his own. Just like he first held her in his arms, the wooden surface of her hand was smooth and cool to the touch. “I’ve allowed my new body to experience many of those senses. I can easily craft you one just like mine if you so desire it.”  


The furrow was still in her brow, yet Sakura didn’t protest nor pull her hands away from him. She was mulling over his words, uncertainty written all over her face. A minute or two passed by and she let out a disappointed sigh, leaning back into the soft, suede couch.  


“I had hoped there was a chance for me to be human again, but…” She trailed off, resigned as her shoulders slumped a little. “It seems that my condition cannot be reserved, no matter how much I wish otherwise. I…suppose your offer is the next best thing for me now.”  


Sasori withdrew his hands from her but remained seated besider her. “I assure you, Sakura, my way is better. You’ll see.”  


She didn’t demur or concur with his statement, just tilted her head at him as if she wished to survey him more lucidly. “You know, I just realized I didn’t ask for your name and yet, you know mine. What’s your name?” Whether she was truly curious to know or merely inquired him to change the subject, Sasori didn’t mind. The more she knew about him, the more she would begin to trust him. And unlike her wretched mother, he would not do anything to misplace that valuable trust.  


“I’m Sasori.” His calculating brown eyes matched up against Sakura’s verdant ones and he found himself holding his hand out to her, as a symbolic gesture. “Stay with me and I will show you how you can swiftly adapt to being a human puppet, with or without senses. We are an art form and true art is always eternal.”  


Eyes wide, her gaze never wavered as Sakura listened to his conviction. Besides her father, she never had someone else in her life who watched over her, cared about her, and beheld her as a vision of beauty. As a marionette, she believed she was ugly and worthless yet Sasori viewed their situation differently. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was a perfect work of art, everlasting and invaluable. And with his assistance, she could be like him and so much more.  


Slipping her hand into his outstretched one, a giddy, genuine grin spread across Sakura’s elegantly painted and carved visage. The same smile widened further when she noticed a flicker of relief skittered across Sasori’s beautifully aristocratic features. Once she had her newly enhanced puppet body, she could not wait to experience what touching his hand really felt like! His hands appeared to be smooth yet there were patches of rough looking callouses all along his fingers and palms.  


“All right, Sasori, color me intrigued. Show me what it’s like to be a human puppet like you!”  


He smirked at her declaration, triumph surging through his entire being. “Gladly.”  


By the time he was through with her, Sakura would be transformed into a stunning masterpiece. And no one would ever bring harm to her, the perfect puppet, ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm getting back into writing and posting my fanfiction again and decided to actually my A03 account for once. Itachifangirl182, I hope you still enjoy your Secret Santa gift fic of SasoSaku


End file.
